Yesterday I went to a funeral for a man I did not know. Normally in this situation I might pretend I was some distant cousin and quietly pay my respects (somehow, I think this is less disrupting then sitting quietly by myself…) but this man was Filipino, so there wasn’t much chance of that working. So during the visitation I stood quietly at the back of the room, watching the people morning the loss of this man, and praying. A lot of people seem to be freaked out by death, but it has never really bothered me; something I attribute to my Christian upbringing. I am not afraid of death, in many respects I look forward to it. I hoped that it was the same for this man. His name was Ben, he was the grandfather of a girl who came out to our Youth Group last year; a girl I had yet to see, so I stood and waited and prayed. Originally I had only planned to stay for the visitation, offer my condolences, pray with her and then leave as the funeral service started; but as the visitation ended and people started filing into the chapel, I decided to stay a little longer. I saw her on the way into the chapel, but decided to stay all the same. The funeral was beautiful, I learned a lot. I learned a lot about this man; he was a man of great faith, great courage, he loved his family, he treated everyone he met like they were his own children, he was always smiling, always laughing, always caring. He was a man who earnestly sought after the will of Christ in every situation, and successfully brought up his family to do the same. He knew what was important, he knew you placed family over money, possessions, title, career. He was a great man. I feel weird encouraging funeral crashing, but if you ever have the opportunity to go to the funeral of a man or woman of great faith, go. It is so beautiful to see the ways in which their family and friends mourn them. I saw person after person get up to talk about how this man loved his God, his family, his life. I heard stories of a man who survived military occupations, lived in many countries, had many children; all of whom he loved dearly. The most touching of all was their attitude towards his passing. Out of what must have been at least 12 eulogists, each finished their words with “This is not goodbye, Lolo. This is see you later.” A beautiful promise of what is to come, an image of our promised resurrection, a reunion on the day of our marriage to the Lord of Hosts. What I saw yesterday was a sight that would have made this man proud. His family, gathered to honour him, saddened by his passing, but rejoicing for all that he has gained in his death. I was truly blessed to witness it.
Last year I lost my grandpa and I was unable to go to his funeral, something that I thought I was fine with at the time but have since come to regret. My grandpa John was also a man of great faith, a man who loved much and hated little. He was a hard working, dedicated man; a huge source of inspiration for my own work ethic as he worked right into his 80′s. He loved the Lord with all of his heart, mind, and body, and he wouldn’t miss an opportunity to tell you about it. In all things he sought the will of God, consulted the word of God, and was intent of giving God praise. He had a deep friendship with his wife, his children, and his colleagues. He was gentle but unflinching, quiet but brave, brilliant but humble. His every breath was a witness to the majesty of God’s grace and forgiveness in the lives of those who believe, and I loved him dearly. I miss him terribly. Seeing the funeral yesterday, in some sense, gave me a great deal of peace over my grandfather’s passing. The two men were very alike, though they never met. They lived by the same ethic, worshiped the same God, and loved their families the same way; and in return they earned their families adoration. This is what I hope to achieve with my life. Yesterday, watching person after person say, “this is not ‘goodbye’, this is ‘see you later’” made me consciously realize the same about my grandpa. It was something I’d always known, but something I had yet to vocalize. This is not goodbye, Grandpa John. This is see you later.
My grandfather was orthodox, and he loved to share his orthodoxy with people. When I was a teenager I was afraid to introduce him to my friends because I knew he would tell them his journey to faith. Now looking back, I wish I’d brought more of my friends to him to hear his amazing story; a story not just of how he came to believe, but why he believes it. When someone passes in the orthodox church they say “Memory Eternal.” It refers not to our own memories, which can be damaged, altered, or lost; but the memory of God, which is everlasting. They say this to pray or to signify that the deceased has entered into heaven’s glory and is partaking in the resurrection of the saints. I find it beautiful. And so I close with that today.
Memory Eternal, Lolo Ben.
Memory Eternal, Grandpa John.
(pictured above: Dr. John E. Merriman, my Grandpa.)
